A World of One-Shots
by Cylinder-the-Autobot
Summary: Just a collection of poems and short stories with all of your favorite nations! No OCs! Requests accepted. I'm not big on pairings, but I will write cutesy fluff here and there. Stories will be posted now and then.
1. Imagine: Alfred F Jones

**Imagine**  
**Alfred F. Jones**

Imagine for a moment,  
That you're flying a plane.

What do you see?

Are you above the ocean?  
A desert, a forest?  
Are you beneath the sun?  
Or the endlessness of a starry sky?

How fast are you going?

Mach 1, 2, or maybe 3?  
Or are you flying a prop,  
And going 100 knots?  
As fast as you can push it?

What are you doing?

Observing?  
Maneuvering?  
Landing?  
Fighting?

Can you look around?

Can reach out for the clouds?  
Can you see the earth beneath you?  
Can you see clearly the instruments around you,  
As easily as you see the things miles below?

Then you have no idea how jealous of you I am.

**(A/N: Because Alfred wears glasses, he is unable to fly airplanes. Military pilots are required to have perfect vision to fly, and in my head cannon, Alfred is probably jealous of pilots because they can fly but he can't.)**


	2. Consider Yourself Lucky: Arthur Kirkland

**Consider Yourself Lucky**  
**Arthur Kirkland**

Have you ever ruined your own family?  
Just by living,  
Just by breathing,  
And letting yourself prosper,  
And succeeded?  
Have you ever ruined anyone?  
No?

Consider yourself lucky, then.

Have you ever forgotten about someone?  
Been gone for so long,  
That you practically forget about them,  
And when you remember,  
You've seen how much they've changed?  
How much they've grown?  
And you've realized that you've been gone,  
Longer than you intended?  
No?

Consider yourself lucky, then.

Have you ever messed-up?  
So bad, that you couldn't change it?  
And when you asked for forgiveness,  
It never came?  
Even if it wasn't entirely your fault,  
You still can't help but feel guilty?  
No?

Consider yourself lucky, then.

Have you ever regretted something?  
Have you ever wanted to go back,  
And fix it all,  
Before it happened?  
Do you feel as if you could have prevented it,  
Yet no one let you?  
Have you ever destroyed someone's trust,  
And lost it all in one day?  
No?

Consider yourself lucky, then.


	3. Iron Crosses: Ludwig Beilschmidt

**Iron Crosses**

**Ardennes Forest Region, January 24th, 1945**

**Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt**

I shouldn't have let him go by himself. I should have stayed with him, like the lieutenants said. I guess I let my poorer judgment get in the way, because I remember when he was stronger than any of us. I looked up to him as my military mentor. Many others did, too.

But mien Gott, I should have thought twice before I let him go. This war - this damn war - has weakened him far beyond my understanding. He's not the country he used to be, and he's not the brother I once knew. He wasn't ready for this, but then again, neither was I.

Now, I've drowned out the shouts of the other soldiers, Allies and Axis alike. Now, I stand here, open an exposed in an empty field, amidst a shower of bullets and grenades and shrapnel. I didn't care if I got shot. Now, that actually sounded like a blessing.

I look down at the necklace in my hand. The charm that hung from it was nearly indistinguishable on the chain, but it was still obvious what it was. Gilbert's Iron Cross still matched mine. He got them for us when they were first made long ago. But now, the wearer is gone. His body, like many others, lies before me in a bloody, bruised mess.

But for some reason, I can't cry. I can't think. I can't act. I just stand there, staring at the body that lies at my feet, clutching the old Iron Cross in my hand, silenced and unmoving. Bullets zip by me, and people, indistinguishable through the smoky haze, drop like flies. Foot soldier, commander, general, medic, Ally, Axis - it didn't matter. Everything faded into one.

And in the chaos and confusion, no one could hear my screams...


	4. Forgive and Forget: Kiku Honda

**Forgive and Forget**

**Hiroshima, Japan, September 2nd, 1945**

**Kiku Honda**

"Never give up. Never surrender."

That's what His Imperial Majesty told me after we bombed Pearl Harbor. America wasn't as menacing as he had made himself out to be. We Japanese rule the seas, not them. I wish I could still say that. After Midway, we were all in denial. "Lucky win," they said. "Let us see them do it again."

Alfred Jones made them eat their words. ...More like shoved their words down their gossiping throats.

It seems Yamamoto was right - "I fear we have awoken a sleeping giant," he remarked, shortly after the United States declared war on the Axis. And after Germany's surrender, the inevitable threat of that giant grew even stronger. But my people remained strong. "We can still win this..." Those words faded into a black and ashy oblivion just under a month ago.

We should have listened to the warning they gave us. _We will bomb you._ But the thing is, we were used to it. Bombings by the Americans had happened before, and none of us were going to surrender to something as minuscule as that. But none of us have experienced a bomb as devastating as this one, let alone two. And it wasn't just us who became afraid.

The world was left in shock when the bombings happened. Everyone, including the Allies, was appalled, and America was ashamed. Yet when confronted, he looked us all in the eyes, and said with the utmost sincerity and seriousness, "I was willing to do anything to end this war."

Yes, by killing thousands of innocent people.

I don't know if I can forgive him for this. I try to doubt myself and attempt to talk to the American soldiers who assist in the clean up of Hiroshima and the re-establishment of our government, but the moment I overturn rubble to find something of value - a picture, a book, or even a body - I remember how evil the Americans are, and forget about it. I stand in the middle of a radioactive field, not caring what happens to me. No matter the injury, I will survive. These bombs will not kill me. A gentle wind blows from the morning sky, signaling the new day. "Time to work," it says, "Hurry, get to your farms." But there are no farms anymore.

...How can I forgive America for this?

How can I even say that he was once my friend?

How can someone so joyful and carefree resort to something like this?

_"...You brought this on yourself, Kiku,"_ was his only reply.


	5. A Haiku About Cats: Heracles Karpusi

**A Haiku About Cats**  
**Heracles Karpusi**

Cats cats cats cats cats  
Cats cats cats cats cats cats cats  
Cats cats cats cats cats

**-**  
**(A/N: I am so sorry. Don't kill me.) **


	6. Vive la France: Francis Bonnefoy

**Vive la France. (Matthew's French name used)**

**Portsmouth, England, June 6th, 1944**

**Francis Bonnefoy**

I looked out into the open ocean. The sea breeze sent shivers down my spine and ruffled my uniform, gray and bland. My loose hair blew in my face, forcing me to tie it back. I hated doing that.

Beside me stood Arthur and Mathieu, dressed in different uniforms than mine (but more color, dammit!), yet if Angleterre wanted to make fun of me and my lack of clothing expression, he made no attempt do so. And if he did, I would have punched him in the mouth. Because today was not the day to be making jokes, no matter how funny and up-lifting.

I could die today. And to be honest, so could Arthur... So could Mathieu... I didn't like to think about. Today is the day the Americans, the British, the Canadians, the French and us nation-people have been planning for. This was it.

The idea was by an American general - Eisenhower, I think - who felt it was necessary to do this.

We were taking back France.

And if we succeeded, by the end of this week, France would be apart of Allied territory once more...

I had almost been killed when Germany took over my land. Or at the very least, I almost lost my immortality. But if by some miraculous intervention, mon Dieu allowed me to continue living... In that stupid Brit's house. I thought I wouldn't survive the first night with the food. But, despite that, the allies were still there for me. Their pity was minimal, but their support was constant and strong-standing. The other nations were there the whole way through this nightmare. I could not have been more thankful for that.

Before the war, I was very happy with my life. But after the Germans had marched through Paris, I seemed to have lost myself. The only reason I never lost that flame, that cheerfulness, that hope, and my immortality, was probably because of my denial. I refused to believe that what had happened, happened. Even yesterday, I felt as if everything was fine, and that I would be coming home to my Opéra and my beautiful Tour Eiffel later in the evening. But the reality hit me, at a British airbase, when we received the call that we were going through with the operation.

Operation Overlord and Operation Neptune is a go, the code said in English, we are launching at 0500. There was a rousing speech by one of the American generals - again, Eisenhower, I think - over the military radio. He was with the Americans. Apparently, the speech had been inspiring, but I wasn't listening. I was too focused. Mon Dieu, this war is killing me.

Even in doubt, everything had been planned down to the letter. The British and American air squadrons and paratroopers left their bases earlier this morning, and as far as we know, most of the men made it safely across the channel and into the territory. Lucky bastards.

The only thing that meant pour moi was a) we're going through with the mission, and b) we nation-people will be put on those disgusting boats, and forced into our probable deaths, fighting for France's freedom. For me.

All of this was in my hands. I prayed - which I haven't done in a long time - that everything will be alright.

After the planes left, Alfred left us to be with his troops. He would be apart of this, too. This was his people's plan, after all. I can't believe I'm saying this, but... I hope he makes it. I never realized how much I needed les États-Unis after this.

We're departing in a few minutes. Arthur puts his hand on my shoulder and nods. I'm leaving with his group. We're landing on the beach code-named "Sword"-something-or-other. I'll see him soon. Mathieu doesn't hesitate when he hugs me, and of course, I hug back, because he's Mathieu, and he and Arthur are, as of right now, the entire world to me. I wouldn't pass this up, because for all I know, the faces I see now may not be sitting next to me in the morning.

Slowly, Mathieu looks at me and smiles gently. He wont be traveling with Angleterre and me. He will be with his troops, at a beach nearby called "Juno," I think. Though his voice is soft and shaky, I understand him perfectly.

"Vive la France," he says, "Vive la France."


	7. Invisible: Matthew Williams

**Invisible**

**Matthew Williams**

They never let me speak. Ever. Not even if they ask my opinion. I'd like to think that it's just a mistake, that their human side, the one that becomes controlling, is showing, but I know that's a lie. It's because I'm invisible. I'm a bee on a radar. I'm nothing to them, I've done nothing for them, irrelevant and silenced.

What's worse is that I _have_ done things for this world, but no one recognizes it because its always overshadowed by someone else. For example, D-Day, June 6th, 1944. My forces _successfully_ invaded Juno Beach. Did I get credit for that? No, because Canada is a part of Great Britain, so the British got the credit. The War of 1812. Who won? Well, I don't know, but I know I benefitted from it pretty nicely. But you think I got recognized for it? Of course not.

It's like I'm screaming as loud as I can, and it's not like no one hears me, but it's more like everyone refuses to listen.

Of course, I have Francis. And while Francis at the very least acknowledges that I am present, he downright ignores me in the meeting.

I have Alfred, And Alfred knows that I'm there, and he acknowledges me when I'm present, but if I try to offer my advice, it goes straight through his thick skull, but never stays. He's usually forgotten about our meeting by the end of the day. I try to blame his dumb government for stressing him out, but that's a pretty stupid reason to just downright forget about your own brother.

"I have a brother?"

"Yes, he's right there."

"Oh yeah... Hey bro!"

He shrugs it off as if forgetting his only relative is alive is nothing.

Typical Alfred...

If i think about it, I know that I have Cuba, but he and my brother hate each other, so much that it comes to points where Alfred is yelling at me - after he remembers that he has a brother - because I shouldn't be friends with "those terrible people." I shouldn't be friends with people who "try to start wars that they can't win."

Arthur's there, but really, the only thing we have in common is the fact that our kingdoms are somewhat united. Somewhat. I never really liked him anyway - he was always more of Alfred's speed... That is, until the Revolution.

...I have Gilbert, who seems to be the only one who knows that I am always there. But being on the other side of the world doesn't help me much. Because he's not a true country anymore, coming across the Atlantic whenever he pleases is just about as easy as catching a shark with your bare hands.

But Kumagichi... Kumajiro... or... whoever: forget about it. (What's his name again?)

To be quite honest though, I don't mind being the way I am. Sometimes being the quiet outcast helps people more than it harms them. I sit in meetings, listening, waiting. They have no idea I'm there, so in a way, I'm my own little spy. Not that I'd do anything about it - I still rely on Arthur, Francis, and Alfred for most everything.

But it's okay, because if one of the nations turns against us, I know all of their secrets. Because I seem to be the only one who listens. You need to send spies to the countries? No need, I have everything you need to know right here. And of course, no one would know how I knew all of this stuff, because truthfully, who expects the invisible guy to know anything?


	8. No Turning Back: Alfred F Jones

**No Turning Back**  
**Alfred Jones**

This is is it,  
No turning back,

Don't get scared,  
Don't freak out.

Everything's fine.

Papers have been signed,  
Uniforms have been given,

Riots in the streets,  
Shots have been heard.

Don't back down now.

Redcoats march through the towns,  
Patriots hide in the trees,

Freedom has been proclaimed,  
But oppression and death knock at the door.

Be brave.

Watch him standing there,  
With his lies and false hope,

Watch him shout orders,  
Kill everything you loved.

How could you?

Fight to the end,  
Never surrender,

Compassion is not an option,  
Neither is agreement.

I remember when you were great.

New promises,  
New future,

When something goes wrong,  
You're on your own now.

Because there's no turning back.


End file.
